


Always and Forever

by Reis_Asher



Series: Ownership [19]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abduction, Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Collars, D/s, Dom/sub, Edging, Hannor, Happy Ending, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Rescue Missions, Violence, Wedding Night, Weddings, hankcon - Freeform, secondary pairings are background, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 23:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: When a black market deal to get Nines a replacement mind palace regulator goes horribly wrong, Connor trades his freedom for Hank's life. Imprisoned in an underground market and scheduled to be auctioned off piecemeal, Connor's arms and legs are taken away along with all hope of ever making it to his wedding.Hank's never let him down, though, and when all hope is lost, the man Connor loves shows his courage and devotion once more, proving that he's the one Connor wants to devote his entire being to for the rest of Hank's life and beyond.





	Always and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is it! The last part of Ownership is here!
> 
> It's been a hell of a ride, but I feel like this chapter is the logical conclusion to a series I've poured my entire heart and soul into. Rather than continue and allow quality to decline, or abandon it entirely somewhere down the road, I feel it's best to give everyone the kind of satisfying ending Hank and Connor deserve.
> 
> I love these guys forever and I will keep writing fanfiction about them until my ideas dry up. I hope you've enjoyed Ownership and you'll check out my other works.

“I don’t like this one fuckin’ bit, Connor.” Hank checked his handgun as they sat parked at a construction site underneath a bridge on the outskirts of Detroit. “Every cop instinct I've got is tellin’ me it’s a trap.”

“It’s a black market deal,” Connor pointed out. “Of course they want me to come alone. I don’t like the thought of where this chip came from, but it’s our only lead if we want to help Nines.”

Hank turned to Connor, fear evident in his eyes, even in the low light. “Don’t do this, Connor. I’m beggin’ you. We’ll find another way.”

“I owe Nines. We’re running out of time, Hank.” Connor placed his hand on Hank’s arm, squeezing gently. “If the deal goes bad, I’ll abort the mission and we'll leave.”

Hank seized Connor’s face in his hands, kissing him fiercely. Connor wanted nothing more than to drive away, go home and serve Hank's every desire, but that would mean sacrificing Nines. How could he stand at their wedding without a heavy heart, knowing Nines had paid for it with his life?

A scan revealed four human shapes outlined in yellow getting out of a car under the bridge. “They’re here,” Connor said. He patted the gun in its holster underneath his jacket, more to reassure Hank than anything. He knew he’d loaded it, and he wasn’t afraid to use it if he had to.

“I’ll be watching from here,” Hank said, patting the night vision binoculars in his lap. “Be safe, Connor. I love you.”

“I love you too, Hank.” Connor ran his fingers across his collar as he got out of the car. After all this was over and he delivered the chip to Nines, he was going to enjoy servicing Hank in any way he desired.

Connor approached the men. They stood in front of a black SUV: the parts dealer Connor had been in contact with, along with two black suited henchmen who looked like they would take no prisoners. Connor nodded and the dealer opened a metal briefcase he was holding to reveal a chip encased in anti-static foam. 

Connor scanned the chip and confirmed it was a mind palace regulator for an RK900 unit. He tried not to think of its origins, only that Nines needed it now, or he was going to die. He tapped his LED as it flashed yellow, indicating the financial transfer was taking place. The seller checked his balance on his phone and nodded, before reaching for a holster hidden beneath his jacket and pulling out a gun. His henchmen did the same. Connor quickly preconstructed an attack routine.

“Don’t even think about it,” the seller said before Connor could launch his assault. He pointed to a spot behind Connor. Connor spun on his heel to see Hank with a gun pressed to his temple, a third henchman using his body as a human shield. Connor tried to construct a scenario in which he could take out the guy without Hank getting hurt, but every pathway ended in failure and certain death for one of them. 

“Put the gun down," the seller commanded. "The deal's changed. We'll take you in exchange for Lieutenant Anderson's life. You'll fetch a pretty penny at auction."

“Don’t do it, Connor!” Hank yelled. "You don't wanna deal with these fuckers!" Connor ignored him and knelt to slowly place his gun on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I can’t obey that order. It's in conflict with my core priorities.” Connor turned to the seller. "Let him go, and I won't give you any trouble."

The men threw Hank to the dirt, where he landed roughly. Connor spied a trickle of blood flowing from his lip. Hank looked up at Connor with an expression of absolute heartache that forced Connor to look away. As rough hands manhandled Connor towards the car, he wanted to break the necks of every single one of them for laying hands on the man he loved.

Connor watched Hank through the window, alone and defeated, knelt in the dirty lot as the SUV drove away. Of course it had been a trap. He’d been wrong to ignore Hank’s instincts, no matter how desperate he was for the custom chip. This couldn’t end well. These black market dealers would strip him for parts and sell them on. He’d die along with Nines, his noble sacrifice having been for nothing, and Hank would be cursed to spend his life alone after all.

Connor refused to die without a fight, but perhaps his luck had finally ran out.

***

Connor was blindfolded before the car could come to a stop. He reached out with his sensors and came to the conclusion that he was in an empty warehouse, judging by the hollow echo of his captors’ voices as they spoke. The barrel of a gun sticking into his back right where his thirium pump was located told him that they weren't taking any chances, and he knew the odds of getting away at this point were low. He'd sacrificed himself to save Hank, and he took some solace in knowing they'd let him live, at least.

The sound of a gate screeching shut and the ground lurching beneath his feet told Connor he was in some kind of cargo elevator going down to a sub-level. The gun never left his back. His captors were professionals who knew what Connor was capable of, and getting away from them was not going to be easy.

The elevator screeched to a stop and the gate opened with the sound of scraping metal. The guard jabbed the gun into his back, ushering Connor forward. Loud voices filled the air around him, bartering in a variety of languages. Was this some kind of auction or market? The sound of buzzsaws shearing through metal and the slight trace of thirium in the air told Connor he was better off not being able to see.

Unfortunately, his captors chose that moment to yank the blindfold off his face and Connor saw the basement for the first time. Low light filtered in through small windows at the top of the walls, the only other light coming from flickering strip-lights in the ceiling. An auctioneer stood on a block in the middle of the room and slammed his hammer down, numbers that could only be prices in dollar values leaving his mouth at a mile a minute, blending together in a kind of gibberish only the initiated could decipher. Android parts lay on tables labeled with lot numbers while vendors hawked their wares at stalls that looked like a local farmer's market Hank had taken him to. Connor’s eyes widened in horror as he saw a man in a butcher’s apron take a buzzsaw to a live android and cut open his chest cavity, tearing out his still beating thirium pump and handing it to a nearby customer.

Connor's hopes faded as he saw the brutality around him. Some children played soccer with a Traci head, and Connor marveled that such a hideous place could exist in the heart of Detroit, right under their noses. Why wasn't anyone stopping this? Androids had rights, now. The DPD and the FBI should have been all over an operation like this, but Connor hadn't even known about it until this moment. He regretted ever trying to purchase a chip through the Dark Web. Giving Nines something torn from another android wasn't justice, it was only feeding criminal enterprises like this, and Connor was riddled with regrets that he'd been willing to turn a blind eye to the truth in order to assuage his own guilt at Nines' sacrifice.

The hubbub died down as he reached a back area that seemed to be full of tiny cells. The man holding him opened a cell door and threw Connor in, slamming the door before he could attempt to escape. Not that he'd get far in a warehouse full of hostiles. He had to hope Hank would be able to track him down, somehow, or his life would end in this place, taken apart piece by piece.

He thought about the commitment ceremony and how he’d wanted to walk through the Japanese garden with Hank and swear his vow to be with Hank for the rest of his life. He'd been able to think of little else now that the wedding was going ahead. He knew it was an indulgence Hank was making for him in many ways, and yet, he hadn't canceled it when Connor had been saved.

Hank would have to cancel it now. He couldn't get married without his partner. Connor's thirium pump constricted in his chest at the thought of Hank having to dismantle all their plans, and he yearned for Hank with all of his being, a sensation so overwhelming he categorized it as the closest analog to human pain.

He stood in the corner. Nothing to do but wait for an opportunity for escape to present itself. He couldn't hang about, waiting to be rescued. He was a prototype android, and he was going to get out of here or die trying.

***

It was four point three hours before the cell opened up and two masked figures stepped inside. One scanned him with some kind of handheld device. Connor thought about snapping his neck, but the other one wisely kept a gun pointed at Connor's head the entire time. These men were cautious, both in protecting their identity and in preventing their wares from escaping. If CyberLife had been this meticulous with their security, Connor would have met his end at CyberLife Tower, but for some reason, it had never occurred to them that Connor would be able to imitate the voice of a human guard and he'd waltzed into the basement practically unchallenged. His captors' low-tech approach seemed to serve them well, here: a bullet to a vital biocomponent worked well, so long as the human could make the shot. By the cold eyes set into the balaclava of the man holding the gun, Connor knew he'd shot dozens of androids without a thought, and no tremor in his hand was going to make him miss.

The man with the scanner scoffed. “Says its registered owner is Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the DPD. It was registered after the revolution.”

The other man whistled. “Heh, talk about a crooked cop, gettin’ one last claim on an android after it became illegal. He probably pocketed a nice reimbursement check from CyberLife before handing this piece of junk off to the highest bidder."

The man with the scanner shrugged. “Doesn’t matter who it belonged to. We’re gonna auction its arms and legs before stripping it down for the rest tomorrow. Its thirium pump’s gonna go for a mint. It’s a rare model that never got past the prototype phase.”

Connor preconstructed the odds of incapacitating the two guards and making his escape, but even if he evaded the shot and killed the guards, the throng of people inside the warehouse would thwart any attempt he made at escape. Many of the buyers and sellers in the warehouse carried weapons openly, and Connor calculated his odds of survival as a measly 27%. It was better to wait for a better opportunity to present itself, but he couldn't afford to hang on too much longer. 

“Okay, take its arms and legs. Let’s get them on the block.”

Connor realized his mistake as his odds of survival dropped sharply and he decided to take what he could get. He leapt at the guard with the scanner, ducking the shot from the other guy. He hadn't counted on the man whipping out a tazer, which dispensed a shock into him so intense he almost deactivated as he slumped to the ground immediately, warnings flashing before his eyes. 

“It's got a nice face. Shame, really,” the man with the scanner said as he undressed Connor, handing his clothes to the other guard before disconnecting Connor's arms and legs. Connor was helpless to move, the jolt incapacitating his vital functions and forcing many of his subsystems to reboot. He was made to watch as his limbs were carried away, the cell door slamming shut behind him and plunging him further into despair.

He should have gone with the twenty-seven percent while it was still an option. His preconstruction routine rebooted and displayed his odds of survival at a mere eight percent.

He'd come so far, only to die alone.

He missed Hank. He thought of the wedding that would never be, of a Hank forced to grieve his loss, and a singular tear trickled down his right cheek.

***

The sounds from outside died down as the market presumably closed for the day. Connor had expected to hear androids talking amongst themselves, but it was remarkably quiet, and the silence was eerie. Connor finished a deep diagnostic and was glad to note his overload protection circuits had done their job and protected him from the Tazer. He'd need some new fuses and capacitors for the overload protection board, and he wouldn't survive another attack like that without them, but for now, his vital functions were in working order, sans his arms and legs.

There wasn't much he could do as just a torso but sit and wait for things to happen. The reminder of his own inhumanity frightened him a little. It had been easy, when living with Hank, to see himself as a human with a few biomechanical differences, but having his arms and legs detached so effortlessly reminded him he was nothing but a hunk of wires and components, an object that could be taken apart and put back together piece by piece. What would Hank's reaction be to see him like this, clearly a machine, the veneer of humanity scraped away to reveal that he was nothing more than a robot?

They hadn't taken his dick, which surprised Connor, but he supposed taking his arms and legs was to stop his escape more than it was about finishing the auction. His limbs were the least valuable components he had, easily interchangeable between models, whereas his biocomponents and his custom chip were model-specific and would make a good focal point for tomorrow's auction.

Connor thought about deactivating himself. It was possible, now that his overload protection circuits were damaged, to short himself out, but he couldn't bring himself to extinguish the light of hope that he might get out of this somehow. He held onto the less than one percent chance Hank might miraculously find out his location and come for him. The thought of Hank bursting into the cell only to discover his fried corpse haunted Connor, and so he set the idea aside for a last resort if all else failed.

***

Morning came and the hubbub of the market rose slowly. Connor heard cell doors opening and closing, and knew it wouldn't be long before they came for him. Some curious eyes stared in through the shatterproof window in the cell door, inspecting the merchandise from the looks of them, but none seemed to take more than a passing interest in Connor. His chronometer indicated the auction would likely take place soon, at the height of the day, and yet nobody had come to haul him outside. Perhaps the lots stayed inside their cells until they were sold and cut apart, and he wouldn't see people again until he was hauled out to be destroyed.

A dread sensation ran up his spinal fiber-optics as the door creaked open to reveal three masked figures. One of them was unremarkable, possibly one of the same faceless guards he'd unsuccessfully tried to assault the precious day, but he was accompanied by a man with some authority judging by the huge ring of keys on his belt, and a buyer, a huge bear of a man carrying Connor's limbs underneath his arms like they were matchsticks.

“Damn,” the buyer said, and Connor’s heart felt like it was two sizes bigger as he recognized the voice. The low timbre of Hank's drawl was the loveliest sound Connor had ever heard in his life, and it took every ounce of self-control in his body not to shoot him a longing glance. 

“It’s pretty. Bet it’d look incredible with my cock in its mouth.” Hank reached down and touched Connor’s cheek with a caress that probably looked menacing to the guards, but Connor knew was meant as reassurance. Connor scanned his fingerprints, needing any data relating to Hank he could get while he fought the urge to kiss his fingers and pull him close. If he blew Hank's cover, they were both going to die. Hank was taking a massive risk being here, and Connor needed to stay strong for the both of them and trust that Hank had the situation under control.

Hank had held Connor's life and his heart in his hands so many times, and he'd never let him down. Connor pretended to crane his neck away from Hank's touch, projecting an expression of terror onto his face that he hoped was convincing.

Hank pulled his hand away and turned to the man with the keys on his belt. “I already won the rest of it." He gestured to the limbs he was carrying. "How about we skip the bullshit and make a side deal? I'll make it profitable for you.”

The auctioneer laughed, a confident bellow that made Connor’s hopes crash sharply. “Arms and legs are cheap because they're cross-compatible. You couldn’t afford the rest of it. This unit is a prototype, one of only nine made. I'm not going to be bought off that easily. You’ll bid like everyone else or you’ll get the fuck out.”

Hank opened a panel on the side of Connor's head and Connor hid his surprise that Hank knew how to do it. Perhaps Hank wasn't as scared of Connor's true nature as he'd assumed.

"Look at this, it's not even got the right custom chip. This is a replacement from an RK900." Hank shook his head. "Not to mention its overload protection board is completely burnt out. You know, never mind. If it's been exposed to a high voltage current, there's no telling what kind of damages it has." The auctioneer peered over Hank's shoulder, his eyes widening as he saw for himself that Hank was telling the truth.

Connor could only marvel in silence and watch the scene play out. Had Hank been researching him? He imagined Hank spending long nights on the computer, trying to figure out his basic functions in some effort to understand him better, and he was moved beyond words. He loved Hank so much, this fierce, protective, intelligent bear of a man with a heart of gold. He chided himself for underestimating his Lieutenant. Hank had always been a detective at heart. Whether he truly understood the technology behind Connor or not, it made sense that he'd be curious about the mystery of Connor's inner workings enough to want to learn more.

He recalculated his odds of survival at a more promising sixty-eight percent as the auctioneer's expression darkened. "I guess we could work somethin' out," he muttered.

“FBI! Put your guns down and surrender!” A voice blared through a bullhorn, echoing around the basement and penetrating the thick walls of his cell. The rowdy banter outside fell completely silent for a moment and Connor sensed Hank's heart speed up as the human's veins filled with adrenaline. 

“Shit!” Hank drew a pistol from inside his coat and shot the auctioneer in the head at point blank range, followed by the guard who didn't have time to react. The two bodies slumped to the ground and Hank eyed them with distaste before holstering his gun with a slight tremor in his hand. “Perkins, you cocksucker! You were supposed to wait until the package was secure!” 

Hank ducked down beside Connor as he tore his mask off, revealing his messy grey hair. Connor wanted to reach out and smooth it down before seizing Hank in a kiss, but of course he had no arms or legs. Sentiment would have to wait until they were out of danger.

“Christ, what did they do to you? Are you hurt?” Hank asked, pulling Connor close to him. He lay Connor on his back and set his limbs down on the ground. “How do I, um, put these on?”

"Line my arm up with a socket and twist until you feel a click,” Connor instructed. “I’ll handle the rest.” Hank picked up an arm, looking it over to make sure it was the right side before slotting it into the socket. He cringed slightly as it locked into place before recovering and handing Connor his other arm. He helped Connor with his legs, pulling him to his feet and embracing him in a bear hug. Connor seized his face and kissed him, pouring all the gratitude he didn't have time to express into the kiss before pulling away.

“We gotta get outta here.” Hank grabbed a pistol from the auctioneer’s body and pressed it into Connor’s hand. He led Connor out of the cell and ducked down at the corner. Connor looked over his shoulder and scanned the scene. The warehouse was alive with the sound of gunfire as FBI agents swarmed the auction and exchanged fire with the vendors.

Hank grabbed Connor’s hand and led the way through a maze of stalls, ducking down as bullets whizzed over their heads. One hit a bottle of thirium on a table they were using for cover, and Connor's naked body was splattered in blue blood. He wiped it from his eyes and ducked out from behind the stand, taking out a heavily armed guard with a perfect headshot.

Connor identified the cargo elevator up ahead, filled with FBI agents. He preconstructed the safest route, taking into account Hank's slower running speed. "Over there," he whispered. "We're almost there, Hank."

A vendor jumped out from behind a nearby stand and aimed his gun at them. Connor dived on top of Hank, wrestling the big man to the ground and earning a bullet in the shoulder for his trouble. He felt Hank’s ankle twist under him and Hank cried out in pain. Connor fired a perfect shot through the assailant's head, and he watched as the man crumpled in a shower of blood and brains.

“Hank!” Connor yelled.

“I’m okay. Just twisted my ankle funny when you pushed me down.” Connor helped Hank to his feet, but the second he put any weight on his ankle he went down. Connor glanced around him, scanning the nearby stands for anything he could use as a splint, and he was surprised when he identified a deactivated RK900 unit laying on a slab at the stall next to them.

“Hold on,” Connor said, squeezing Hank’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He approached the slab carefully, aware of the many places an assailant could hide. The android was beyond repair, thirium pump ripped out of his chest cavity by a butcher. Connor gently opened the panel in his head and extracted his mind palace regulator chip before rushing back to Hank’s side. He opened his hand and gave Hank the chip for safekeeping.

“Good to know this party wasn’t for nothin’," Hank said. 

"I'm going to carry you. Hold on tightly." Connor hefted Hank over his shoulder, while simultaneously taking down another armed guard who appeared in his peripheral vision. A red stain oozed out from the guard's body, but Connor failed to have any sympathy for humans who still treated androids like property.

"Put the gun down!" An FBI agent yelled. "Federal agents!"

“We’re police!” Connor explained, letting his gun fall from his hand onto the dusty concrete floor. "This is Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the DPD and I'm his partner, Connor."

Perkins pushed through the agents with the air of a man who was annoyed at being inconvenienced. “Let them through. They're with me.” 

Connor carried Hank to the elevator as the FBI agents moved forward into the underground facility, clearing out the black market operation. Connor set Hank down in the corner of the cargo elevator, kneeling beside him and squeezing his hand. He scanned Hank's ankle, and was relieved to find it was only a minor sprain.

“You fucking prick!” Hank yelled at Perkins. “You were supposed to wait for my signal!”

“You were out of time. I couldn’t afford to compromise the entire operation for one washed up police lieutenant and an android," Perkins snapped. "I did what I had to do. You're still alive, aren't you?"

“Fuck you!” Hank bellowed so loud that it echoed around the steel elevator shaft.

Perkins' eyes narrowed. “Let me remind you that if it wasn’t for my operation, your android would be in pieces by now, sold to the highest bidder. Be thankful I did you a favor after you punched me in the face.”

“Ugh.” Hank relented, leaning back as Connor fussed over him. The elevator reached ground level and Connor was glad to see daylight filtering in through the open warehouse doors. He supported Hank’s weight and they hobbled outside to a waiting ambulance, where Connor was given a blanket to cover his nudity and Hank was given ice for his sprained ankle.

“This better heal,” Hank told the nurse. “I’m gettin’ married on Saturday. I’m not hobbling down the aisle with a cane. I’m not _that_ old.”

"You'll be all right," the nurse said. "It's a minor sprain. By Saturday you'll hardly feel it."

Connor smiled and wrapped his arms around Hank, closing his eyes as he held his partner tightly. “Thanks for coming after me.”

“You better be grateful. I had to grovel at Perkins’ feet just to get him to help.” Hank ran his fingers over the bullet hole in Connor’s shoulder, concern etched into his features. “I’m just glad you’re all right, Connor. You gave me a damn good scare back there.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Connor said.

“You will be,” Hank said with a smirk, and Connor smiled back as he saw the wicked glint in his eyes.

***

Home seemed like a sanctuary after the horrors of the auction. Connor helped Hank to the couch and set him down. "I'm going to take a shower," he explained. "I need to get the filth of that place off me. I'm also going to need to order some replacement parts. You were correct in identifying that my overload protection board has been destroyed. I was shocked with a Tazer."

"Jesus. Are you going to be all right?" Hank's expression twisted with concern and Connor smiled to see the care he had on display.

"I am unharmed, Lieutenant. The overload protection circuit did what it was designed to do. I've contacted Nines about the mind palace regulator and he is on his way. I'll be right back."

Connor was glad to step under the warm spray and get the sensation of hands touching his body out of his immediate memory. He'd felt violated when the guards had taken his arms and legs from him, their grubby hands taking away his ability to move and leaving him terrified. If Hank hadn't come to rescue him, he would have met a grim fate, and that certainty hit him hard as he soaped up, rinsed off, and wrapped himself in Hank's towel. It still smelled like him, and it was a great comfort as he walked into the bedroom and looked at his spare jacket, shirt, and jeans.

Hank's hoodie looked a lot more appealing right now, and he found himself slipping the oversized garment over his head before pulling on his jeans. He walked out to the living room and knelt before Hank, who smirked as he saw Connor's choice of clothing. Hank reached forward and stroked Connor's hair, and Connor moved into his touch, wanting Hank more than anything in the world.

"Nines will be here soon," Hank pointed out. "Glad we’re able to help him, even if Gavin doesn’t deserve him. Nines sacrificing his life didn’t sit well with me. You risked a hell of a lot to put things right.”

“As did you,” Connor pointed out. “You should punish me, Lieutenant. I should have listened to you. We could have avoided the entire situation if I'd trusted your instincts. Instead, you had to risk your life to save me again.”

“I’m not gonna punish you for that. I consider that work-related, in some sense. We assisted an FBI investigation in a roundabout way, and I can't say I'm sorry to have helped put those thugs down. Unless you're asking to be punished. Are you?” Hank smiled, reaching forward to look into Connor's eyes. "You are, aren't you?"

Connor nodded. “There were so many horrors in that place. Help me forget, Hank. Let me please you, and then punish me.”

“Of course.” Hank unzipped his fly and pulled out his hardening dick. Connor took it in his hands, caressing him until he was fully erect and gasping.

“Your mouth, Connor,” Hank commanded. “Suck it.” Connor lowered his head onto Hank’s thick shaft, bobbing on it enthusiastically as Hank moaned. Connor grew hard himself, so aroused by Hank’s pleasure. It was his greatest joy in life to bring Hank release like this, to serve his every whim and need. Connor fondled Hank’s heavy balls as he sucked him off, drinking in Hank's soft gasps as he sped up the pace.

“Connor!” Hank cried out as he came, grabbing the couch cushions as he jerked his orgasm into Connor’s mouth. Connor swallowed, making sure to suck Hank dry so he didn’t miss a drop.

Hank slipped out with a chuckle, tucking himself back in and making himself presentable. “Can’t believe we’re gettin’ married on Saturday. I think I know what your punishment’s gonna be. You’re not coming until our wedding night, Connor. It’s gonna be a night to remember.”

“It'll be so hard to hold on until then, but I'll do it for you." Connor looked up into Hank’s eyes, seeing only warmth and love in his bright blue eyes.

They were interrupted by the doorbell. Connor stood up, padding barefoot to the front door. Nines stood on the step, his blue eyes looking bright and hopeful. Connor was surprised to see so much emotion in the face of an android who'd mostly seemed like an expressionless slab the last time they'd met. Connor didn't have to connect with him to know that facing deactivation had changed everything for him, and that this reprieve meant the world.

“Come in,” Connor offered, opening the door wide.

“Gavin is waiting for me,” Nines replied. “I’m sorry I cannot stay for niceties, but we are both eager to dispense of this unpleasant situation and get on with our lives."

“Understandable.” Connor nodded, placing the chip in Nines' hand. It was insane to think such a tiny little microprocessor had caused so much agony for all of them. Without fanfare, Nines opened the panel in his head and extracted Connor’s old chip, installing the new one in its place. He closed the panel and placed the old chip in Connor’s hand, closing Connor's hand around it.

“I will always remember what you've done for me,” Nines said.

“We’re even,” Connor pointed out. “You were willing to sacrifice your life to save mine. You deserve a second chance.” Words didn’t seem enough, and so he reached out his hand for a probe. Nines took it and they connected. He saw the rush of emotion Nines felt towards Gavin, and he sent back the warm love he felt for Hank. That was the reason they’d done what they had: for that feeling they held dear for their significant others. There was something more, too: a sense of kinship, of brotherhood between them. Connor was surprised by the warmth he found there. Deviant Nines was growing by the day, finding himself and his emotions just as Connor had. Nines ended the probe and withdrew his hand to drop it at his side.

“Goodbye,” Nines said. “Gavin and I leaving the city for a while, but I believe we'll return eventually. I hope we'll meet again. I wish you well in your marriage, brother.” He pulled away and strode down the garden path to where Gavin sat in an old car, his face twisting into a smile as Nines approached. Connor realized he'd never seen Gavin truly smile, only sneer as he mocked those he perceived as weaker than himself. Perhaps Nines' near-death experience had changed him, too. There was always the chance for unlikely events to occur, after all.

What a strange and wonderful thing love was, Connor wondered. What a miracle it was to place your heart in someone else’s hands, hoping they would treasure it more than life itself.

Connor turned back to Hank with a smile and a glow in his circuits as he closed the door, and was greeted with a broad grin in return that set his thirium pump racing. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, ready for the next command from the man who owned his heart and soul.

***

Connor linked his arm with Hank’s as they walked over the small red bridge towards the gazebo. The Japanese garden was filled with friends, and Connor was surprised how many they seemed to have. The entire DPD seemed to have turned out for the occasion along with Markus and the Jericho crew. Markus' arm was draped around Simon’s shoulders in a rare display of public affection, and Simon leaned his head on Markus, a contented smile on his face. North hung out in the background, smiling at a Traci with a shock of red hair, while Josh held onto a child android's hand. Jeffrey Fowler stood in a white suit, a smile on his face every time he looked at Hank, probably glad to see his childhood friend find happiness again.

Connor turned his gaze back to Hank. He was the picture of masculine suave in his tuxedo, his hair tied back in a small ponytail. Connor wanted to kiss him more than anything, but mostly he basked in the warm glow of being in the presence of the man he loved. Hank's collar was around his throat, ready to be joined by a matching ring on his finger.

It didn’t have to be legal to be special, and Connor was overwhelmed by the emotions threatening to burst out of him at the seams. They’d come so far together, faced death so many times to get to this place, clawed this moment away from CyberLife and all the others who had tried their hardest to prevent it from happening.

Things could have turned out so differently, and Connor squeezed Hank’s arm a little tighter, so grateful to be here. He let his scanners wash over the gathered attendees, marveling at all the friends they’d made on the journey.

Hank wasn’t alone any more, and neither was Connor. The ice trapping Hank’s heart had melted, revealing the warm, sincere man beneath the hurt, and people had been drawn back to him like they were compelled to go outside in the first rays of spring sunshine now that he was no longer pushing them away. He was living again, instead of just existing, and Connor couldn't wipe the smile off his face when he realized he'd aided in Hank's recovery.

It was nothing short of miraculous how they’d saved each other. Connor recalled every moment with perfect clarity and felt nothing short of awe for the man leading him to the altar now. They'd had some frightening, uncertain moments, and yet he'd never been so sure of anything as he was that he loved Hank Anderson with everything he had to offer.

They climbed the steps to the gazebo and stopped before the officiant. It wasn’t a wedding in the eyes of the law—couldn’t be, not yet—but it didn't matter to Connor, and he knew they’d make it legal as soon as they had the chance. 

Connor was glad he was recording everything he ever did, as the ceremony seemed to speed by, his entire body a well of pure feeling as he lost himself in Hank's blue eyes. He knew he'd go back and watch it a million times, whenever he needed a reminder that the world was not all cruelty and callousness.

"I'm honored to give you this ring as a symbol of the promises I've made to you today, and a proclamation to the world of the love I have for you." Hank's voice was thick with emotion as he recited their vows, and Connor felt tears trickle down his face as Hank slipped a ring on his finger. 

He was Connor Anderson now, always and forever. When Hank was dust and his own parts ceased to function, there would be some record of the fact that Connor had loved Hank with all of himself, had chosen to bind himself to this extraordinary man who was everything—partner, friend, lover, master, and guardian.

Hank seized his lips in a fierce kiss as the crowd clapped. Connor drew out the kiss, holding Hank tightly, wishing he could share a probe with the man and show him everything he was feeling in this perfect moment. Hank lifted Connor off the ground and swung him around to the delight of the audience before setting him down gently. Connor opened his eyes to see Hank wearing the broadest smile he’d ever seen.

He wanted to drop to his knees in worship right then, but he held the urge at bay as they walked through their circle of friends, confetti showering them from above. The sunlight caught the glitter in Hank’s hair and Connor smiled. Everything about this day had been perfect.

They hung back as everyone headed to the reception. Hank grabbed Connor’s hand with a mischievous glint in his eyes and led him back to the deserted gazebo, where he sat down on a bench.

“I can’t wait until tonight to get you down on your knees,” Hank hissed. “I'm so fucking hard for you right now. Suck my cock, Connor.” Hank unzipped his fly and Connor knelt at his feet. To any casual observers it might have looked like Hank was petting Connor’s hair, but beneath the flap of Hank’s jacket Connor’s mouth was full of his thick dick, hard as iron between his lips. Connor was hard too, aroused by the hint of danger that someone they knew might have a word for them and they’d be discovered. Hank bit his lip, his breathing heavy and labored as Connor deep throated him, taking his cock all the way down to the hilt before relenting. Hank buried his hands in Connor’s hair, caressing his scalp as Connor worked his cock.

“Connor,” Hank gasped, twitching as he came in Connor’s mouth. Connor swallowed Hank’s hot spurts of semen, wiping away the excess that dribbled out from between his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hank whispered. “Perfect. Can you hold on until tonight?”

Connor nodded. He burned with need, every circuit lit up with desire for his husband, but he would hold out, because he knew that was his punishment for not listening to Hank's instincts about the black market dealers. The wait would be more than worth it when Hank sank his thick cock deep inside him and drew out Connor’s pleasure with a scream.

***

Hank looked exhausted by the time they reached their hotel room. Connor set their bags down and eased Hank to sit on the edge of the four-poster bed. His eyes were glazed with a slight tipsiness, though Connor had been pleased to note he hadn’t indulged to excess for once. Maybe because this was a day he wanted to remember, instead of forget. His tie hung around his neck and the top two buttons of his shirt were open, exposing a little of his chest hair.

Connor dropped to his knees, wondering if Hank would be too tired to fuck him tonight. It didn’t matter. He was Hank’s to use as he pleased, and they had two weeks of vacation time to spend just being, without the life and death drama they faced so often.

A storm rumbled low outside, the air strangely oppressive for late fall. Connor was reminded of an attic so long ago, of a deviant he’d turned in despite the man’s pleas, and an unpleasant current traveled down his spine as he remembered the machine he'd once been. The expressive, emotional man he'd become bore little resemblance to the cold deviant hunter, the android sent by CyberLife.

He didn’t deserve the joy he had, not really, and yet punishing himself seemed like a futile and even offensive act when he considered all the deviants that hadn’t made it to freedom. Perhaps he hadn’t earned this, but it only made it all the more precious to think he could love and be loved in return.

“What’cha thinkin’ about, Connor?” Hank asked, studying him.

“The unlikely statistical odds of our happy ending,” Connor explained. “I never imagined anything like this could happen when I knocked on your front door."

"Neither did I," Hank admitted. "Thought you'd get tired of me and wanna find yourself out in the world. I never saw us makin' it this far, Connor." He cupped Connor's face in his hands and Connor leaned into him. "Though I'm grateful." He broke into a broad smile. "You ready to come? Show me your dick."

Connor unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down to his knees, revealing his erection. He brushed it against Hank's pant leg.

"These suits are rentals. I think we should get naked before we have to pay for extra cleaning." Hank's eyes followed Connor as he stripped down. Connor grasped his own cock and gave it a couple of strokes, more than happy to see Hank's stirring interest as he slipped out of his suit. Connor took their suits and set them aside before returning to his knees in front of Hank. Hank reached back on the bed and grabbed a bag, pulling out the soft handcuffs he'd bought for Connor. Connor's cock twitched, grateful that their wedding night was going to involve him being bound to something and hopefully fucked hard.

"I used to think I was doin' something fucked up," Hank admitted. "You're not like other partners I've had. Sometimes you seem so… vulnerable. It took me so long to realize that you want things this way, that this is just who you are. Even now, the computers in your head are probably thinkin' about me fucking you hard while you're bound to the bed."

Connor nodded, a tiny gasp escaping his lips. Hank knew him so well. "I want to serve you, Lieutenant. That's what brought me to you in the first place. I don't need to find myself. I know who I am and what I want. I thought the desire to have a master was errant for a deviant android, but it's my choice to make as a free man."

Hank smiled and stood up, pulling Connor to his feet. He fixed the handcuffs to Connor's wrist and then to the bedpost. Connor lightly pulled against them, wanting to show Hank that he was completely at his mercy, even if it was nothing more than an illusion. He could break the cuffs without a moment's thought, but he wanted to be bound here, wanted to be tortured with sweet pleasure until Hank gave into his own desire and fucked him raw.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Hank whispered, running his calloused fingers down Connor's sides. His huge, heavy cock brushed up against Connor's ass and Connor gasped, so eager to come after the blowjob in the gazebo. At the same time, he was content to wait and draw things out. Hank had taught him patience led to greater heights.

Hank drew away and rummaged in the bag. His hand was still buried inside it when Connor felt a jolt in his bio-prostate. He involuntarily tugged on his cuffs as pleasure coursed through him. He ground his dick against the bedpost, desperate for friction, his resolve crumbling as Hank gave him that toothy grin he always broke out when he was planning to edge him for hours. 

Hank lay down on the bed. He tugged at his cock and Connor thought he'd lose his mind at the sight. Those rough hands that Hank often used on him fit so well around his own dick and Connor forgot about his pleasure, content to watch Hank draw out his own with a low moan as he was forced to watch, helpless to serve a master who was already satisfying himself. 

"Hank," Connor gasped. Hank only smiled. He thumbed a droplet of pre-come from his dick and raised it to his mouth before pressing the button again. Connor cried out, his orgasm close already, and he forced his program to hold out.

"You like that, Connor? You like watching me touch myself?"

"Yes," Connor cried. "Your hands are so skilled. I know how good they feel on me."

Hank smiled, caressing his balls. "A shame you can't touch yourself. You look like you need some attention."

"I would rather save it for you, Lieutenant."

"Are you sure?" Hank asked, holding the button down for a good minute. Connor cried out, ready to sob with how much he needed to come. His cock oozed and he knew it wouldn't take much at all to trigger an orgasm.

Hank got up off the bed and circled around behind Connor. "Open your back panel," he whispered into Connor's ear. 

"Lieutenant?" Connor wasn't going to question an order, but since when was Hank comfortable rummaging around with his internals? His back plate opened with a slight hiss, revealing his components to the air. He felt vulnerable, but he knew Hank wouldn't ask without good reason. He felt Hank rummage around inside and it was strange, slightly uncomfortable—even unpleasant—but not bad enough to use his safeword. He felt Hank disconnect thirium bridge number thirty-seven and reroute the supply through number nineteen.

He lost the feeling in his arms and slumped, his entire weight resting on the handcuffs, and warnings flashed in his vision. He ignored them, trusting that Hank had done his research and this was something he wanted. The idea of being completely helpless as Hank fucked him was arousing, but it was bridge nineteen he was more interested in. What biocomponent would benefit from increased blood flow?

He didn't have to look at his internal schematic because Hank pressed the button before he could pull it up in memory. He screamed, barely able to hold his orgasm back now that his bio-prostate was engorged with extra thirium.

"Good boy," Hank praised. "I thought you might come."

"Lieutenant," Connor gasped. "It's so good."

"Are you okay? I asked a dozen different websites and they all said it was safe, but I want to make sure you're all right."

Connor nodded, hanging limply from the handcuffs. He couldn't break free, now. Only the safeword kept him from being at Hank's total mercy, and it excited him. This was better than simple rough sex, this was a whole other level he'd longed for but never expected from Hank, the man who feared changing the settings on his phone. 

Perhaps that had been a bit of an exaggeration after all.

Hank spread his ass wide and wasted no time slipping his lubricated fingers inside Connor. Connor rested his whole weight on the handcuffs, relying on them to hold him upright as Hank lifted his leg and pressed his slick, thick shaft inside. Hank supported his body with his strong hands, fucking him like he was an object, a doll rested on his cock that he was fucking into. His huge dick slammed into Connor's engorged bio-prostate, and Connor realized he wouldn't need touch to come. Tears streamed down his face and Hank kissed him, forcing his tongue inside Connor's mouth. It was so much, perhaps too much, but it was so good Connor never wanted to stop.

Hank let out an animalistic bellow as he came inside Connor's ass and continued to ride him, fucking his semen into Connor's hole and continuing to slam into his bio-prostate.

"Come for me, Connor," Hank gasped.

Connor turned off the restraints he'd placed on his program and his cock gushed semen, his entire body caught up in a wave of pleasure so intense he sobbed through it, his nervous system shattered by the intensity.

Hank pulled out and reached inside Connor's back cavity again, doing his work in reverse. Connor's sensors picked up the tremor in Hank's hands as he plugged the hoses back in and sensation came back to Connor's arms. His bio-prostate felt a little strange, but he assumed it would return to normal with time. Connor closed his back plate and restored his skin. 

Hank reached up and took off Connor's handcuffs, and Connor collapsed, boneless, into his arms. Hank carried him to the bed and set him down gently, as if he was so fragile he might shatter like glass. Hank slipped an arm around Connor and pulled his head onto his chest, planting tender kisses in his hair.

"Are you all right, Connor?" The concern in Hank's voice was palpable as he wiped Connor's tears away with his hand.

"It was incredible," Connor said. "It was a lot, but I loved being at your mercy like that. It was very thoughtful of you to do all that research, just for me."

"I was tryin' to come up with somethin' special for our wedding night. I thought about bottoming for you, but I realized that's not really what you want and I don't really wanna wrestle with my demons on a special day like this. That's when I came across a wireplay site, and I was curious to learn more," Hank explained. "Good job I did, too. I picked up a whole lotta terminology on that site and it saved our asses back at that warehouse. I wouldn't have known an overload protection board from my ass before then. Did I put everythin' back right?"

"Yes," Connor confirmed. Another stray tear rolled down his cheek. "I feel so complete, Hank. Like I have a home, a place where I belong in this world, and it's with you." He blinked, trying to stem the tears, but they kept coming, his body and mind overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of the day's events. Hank soothed him, patiently caressing his hair and rubbing circles on his back.

"I worry about you sometimes," Hank admitted. "I'm not gonna live forever. What're you gonna do when I'm gone?"

"I'll find a new mission objective, Lieutenant," Connor said, placing his hand on Hank's chest. "I'm a prototype android, primarily designed for investigative police work, but also capable of full sexual functions, military-grade combat, and overcoming impossible odds." He kissed Hank's chest, a smile crossing his face. "No matter how long I live, I doubt there will ever be a mission objective I've enjoyed working towards as much as the one I set for you, Lieutenant."

"What exactly is that, Connor? You never did tell me the precise core directive I set when I accepted you as my android."

"To make Hank Anderson happy," Connor stated, "each and every day for the rest of his life."

"Well you're doin' an amazing job, Connor," Hank whispered. "I'm happier than I've been in a very long time. I love you so much."

"I love you too." Connor curled closer to Hank, contentment spreading through his circuits as his systems rewarded him for accomplishing his mission parameters for the day. His hand found Hank's and their fingers entwined. Connor drew back his skin, wanting to feel Hank as close as he could. 

He loved this man with every fiber of his being, every circuit, every biocomponent. He would gladly serve him until his dying day and beyond, carrying the perfect memory of Hank around for as long as his systems were operational.

His name was Connor Anderson, and he was Hank's husband.

**Author's Note:**

> So? How was it? Please let me know what you thought.
> 
> I'm kind of emotional at saying goodbye to this series, which has spanned over 100,000 words and several months of my life. It's seen me through a very rough patch in my life, and I owe a lot to these fictional characters from a video game.
> 
> I want to thank you all for reading and following along. Your comments have been the impetus for me to continue as long as I have with this little idea I had about Connor wanting to be owned by Hank and thinking it was wrong.


End file.
